


Misplaced

by Integral_of_Awesome



Category: Static Shock
Genre: Driving, Gen, Refusing to admit to being lost, Richie is long-suffering, Virgil can be stubborn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 09:02:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/660185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Integral_of_Awesome/pseuds/Integral_of_Awesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Virgil wasn't lost. End of story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misplaced

Misplaced

Virgil wasn't lost. Men don't get lost, and Virgil was most certainly a man. 

At a young age, Virgil had watched his father drive around with virtually know trajectory and _still_ insist that he wasn't lost, and Virgil had deduced this philosophy and that he, henceforth, would never get lost again.

The logic didn't make the most sound argument in the world, but Virgil looked up to his father, respected the man, idolized him. Virgil had always thought that the surest way to become a great man was to follow in his father's footsteps. Some people (Richie) might claim that emulating his father didn't have to include silly things like wandering around with the firm belief that he wasn't lost, but Virgil didn't make a habit out of only following through half-way. Besides, the whole "real men don't get lost" thing still sounded pretty legitimate to Virgil.

Richie, on the contrary, had been maintaining that they were lost for the last four hours and that there was nothing, genetically speaking, about admitting it that made him less of a man. He proceeded to spout off words that sounded smart, pretentious, and made-up, and Virgil could only assume that these words were destined to prove one of his assessments (if not both) true. Virgil's counter-argument consisted of him stubbornly shaking his head and re-iterating in a way that Richie, traitor that he was, equated to pounding his chest with his fist. In Virgil's opinion, he won.

In all honesty, Virgil could understand why Richie thought he was lost. They had been driving for seven hours, though the trip was only supposed to take five, and had yet to come across anything that looked familiar, except for the old, abandoned farm house that Richie insisted they had passed six times already. Virgil was sure, though, that they would pass the exit for HWY 119 any minute, and it was only an hour or so back home from there.

And wouldn't it be ridiculous, Virgil reasoned, to stop and ask for direction when they were _so close_ to the exit? It would be like asking someone to pass the salt when it was sitting right in front of him. Richie was just being unreasonable.

The pair had traveled these great lengths to go to Comic Con, an occasion well worth any drive. Though they easily would have gone by choice, their placement had actually been requested by Batman, the Caped Crusader himself, as there had been heavy rumors flying about possible attacks, big names cropping up that made the crime-fighter unsettled. Batman had reasoned that 1) Virgil and Richie (in civvies, naturally) would blend in far better as two geeky teenagers than most League members and 2) he was aware that Virgil and Richie were going to be there regardless, and the idea of a vacation simply didn't compute.

At the time, Richie had scoffed and muttered something about snooping, superior superheroes that had no right tracking their movements and requesting missions of them with next-to-no warning and little appreciation. Virgil couldn't help but smile a little at that. Considering the degree to which Richie idolized the League members, it always amused him how openly disgruntled his friend could be. Of course, the League's general disdain for him and preference of Virgil for League consideration had spurned this indignation, and Virgil hardly thought that was a laughing matter.

The Justice League had shown interest in Richie's intelligence and capability, but he had never jumped up on their radar as real "hero potential". Virgil, on the other hand, felt a little like one of those star athletes being courted by one of the best colleges in the nation. Various members of the Justice League had spoken to Virgil in unhidden interest in his imminent joining. Virgil had been ecstatic, exuberant, until he noticed the distinct lack of tide towards Richie's side of the lake.

Batman had shown some interest in Richie, recruiting him for tinkering, researching, and inventing jobs when he wouldn't even trust Virgil to run to the grocery store, but somewhere along the way even he had drawn his line in the sand. Richie was a smart kid, a decent crime fighter, the elder half of the Dynamic Duo had once confessed to Virgil in a rare bout of revelation, but he just wasn't made for crime fighting. Virgil knew Richie could get a gig building and designing for the League, but he also knew they wouldn't be extending the kind of invitation Richie had his heart set on.

They'd sat down and talked about it once. It had been a short, awkward conversation where Richie had pretty much told Virgil that he was fine with it and that he didn't want to hold Virgil back, no matter if the League wanted _him_ or not, but the sentiment hadn't settled Virgil's stomach all that much. The thought of joining up without his best friend made him more than a little uneasy, but at the same time the thought of joining up at all sent his heart soaring up through the roof. It was conflicting and confusing, and Virgil wished the Justice League could just get over whatever they had against Richie and take to him they way they'd taken to Virgil.

Of course, all thoughts better left for another time aside, neither Richie nor Virgil saw any action at the convention, outside roleplaying. Virgil hadn't gotten any word from the higher ups (another thing Richie mumbled bitterly about in a way that Virgil assumed he wasn't supposed to hear) and could only assume that Batman had either already caught the culprits or had proven the accusations false after all.

A few days later, they faced their biggest obstacle: the drive back home. Virgil's father had allowed him to borrow his car on the condition that Virgil return it home, safe and in the _exact_ same condition that he left with it in. Virgil had no intention of doing any less. Richie had snidely commented, about an hour back, that Virgil was lucky getting lost didn't cause physical damage to the car because then Virgil would be returning a pile of twisted metal to his father. Virgil hadn't found the joke all that funny.

"It's going to be the next exit. I have a good feeling about this," Virgil said, smiling a little. Richie just rolled his eyes, silent for the first time in his life.

The next exit was not HWY 119, nor was the next, nor the next, after which they passed an old, abandoned farmhouse that Virgil had to admit was starting to look a little familiar.

"Maybe we should just stop and ask for directions. I have Backpack stored under the false bottom in the trunk, I could fish him out and have us back on track in no time," Richie suggested for the hundredth time.

Virgil said nothing in reply, relying on his stoic silence to convey his conviction.  His hands remained squarely at ten and two, and he made no indication that he planned on pulling over and asking for directions like a _girl_ anytime soon.

Richie sighed, head sinking in defeat and despair. "We're never going to get home."


End file.
